Chapter Eighty
“What is Richard Haswell's preferred sexual position?”
Slapping a palm down on my chair-arm hard enough to sting, “What the Hell!!!”
His lips purse. “Come now, Mrs Haswell. You claim that you and Richard Haswell are a married couple in a genuine intimate relationship. Clearly, you should be able to answer such a straightforward question. So… What…?” He sucks in his lips. Cocks his head. “Missionary? Doggy?”
I freeze. Hissing the words between my teeth, “How dare you invade my… our… privacy like this?”
He scribbles another note. Squeezing down on my rage, I crane forward. Reading upside-down… Reply refused
“Very well then, Mrs Haswell. A different question…” His pencil hovers. His mouth purses. “When was your last menstrual period?”
And this time, I rocket up out of my seat. “Get out!” I swing an arm toward the door to find it already standing open, Ross, crimson-faced, gabbling into his mobile. As he registers my words, my actions, he sets the phone on a side table…
But doesn’t turn it off…
He’s on loudspeaker?
Who’s listening?
“Get this bastard out of here. And call Richard…”
“Already done, Beth. And doing.” He marches forward, looms. “You heard her. Out!”
“Mrs Haswell, I have not completed your interview.”
“Nor are you going to. You turn up at my home unannounced and behave in the most offensive way imaginable. If there is to be an interview, it will be conducted by appointment and I will have my lawyer present. I will discuss it with my husband first.”
That sniff again. “I strongly advise you not to discuss this with Mr Haswell.”
My hands are shaky, but I clamp down on any tremor in my voice, try to control the level, to remain in charge of my own emotions. I square on him. “Do you seriously imagine I won’t tell him what’s happened here? By what possible right do you instruct me on what I may or may not discuss with my husband? You’re not the police.”
Ross marches up close to Pensby. “Mrs Haswell has already ordered you to leave. If you don’t do so now, I’ll call the police. Off-hand I’d be prepared to testify against you on her behalf for trespass, menaces and entering under false pretences. I should warn you that Mr and Mrs Haswell are personal friends of the Commissioner of Police.”
“Yes, I’m sure Mr and Mrs Haswell have friends in high places…” It stops only just short of a sneer… “That’s the whole point of these investigations. Rooting out corruption.”
“I have worked for Richard Haswell for years. He is not corrupt. And his marriage to Mrs Haswell here is completely genuine. They dote on each other.”
“Yes, very romantic, I’m sure. However, we are investigating possible serious fraudulent activity…”
I’ve had enough. “In which case, it is a criminal matter. The police should be conducting this interview and I should have my lawyer with me…”
Is that true?
I’ve no idea.
I have no experience of anything like this. No frame of reference.
Pensby Tuts. “Your lack of cooperation will be entered in my report. As you say, we shall continue this interview another time, Miss Kimberley, and under more formal conditions.” Nonetheless, he flinches as Ross looms closer. Bundling clipboard and briefcase under an arm, he scuttles out, Ross right behind him…
… And shaking… shuddering rage and humiliation… I burst into tears.
Again the door opens, this time framing a nervous-looking figure. Claudia’s eyes dart to me then back out into the hallway. “Um… Should I come back another time?”
I swipe tears and mascara from under my eyes. “Not at all. You’re very welcome. In fact, would you please stay awhile? I could use some company.”
“Course I will.” From along the hall, the slam of the front door echoes and Claudia lets out a gasp. “What on earth was that about?”
*****
Ross returns while Claudia rummages in her bag, producing tissues. Fruitlessly wiping away the tears still streaming down my cheeks, “Ross, that man, he said… He asked…”
“I know. Beth…” Tentatively, he lays a hand on my arm, then takes it away… “I heard every word. I hope you don't mind, but I didn’t care for the look of him and I stood right outside the door.”
“The things he asked…”
Ross colours up. His voice is hesitant. “I know.” He swallows. “Beth, I… I hear and see enough to know that most couples would envy what you and Richard have.”
A touch of humour, of the ridiculous tugs at me. “You met me on the stairs the other night, when I'd dressed to…”
His colour deepens. “Um… Yes. Sorry about that. It was pretty plain what you had in mind, and if push comes to shove, I can witness that the pair of you have a full and functioning marriage.”
A voice pipes up, Ross’ mobile on speaker, Francis’ voice. “Beth? Richard’s on his way. He’ll be with you ASAP.”
“Oh, God…” I clap a hand over my mouth. “Does he know…”
“Yes, he does. And he’s had it too. Another chinless wonder turned up here and directed the same set of questions at him.”
“How is he?”
Amusement tinges her voice, overlaying worry. “I think towering rage about covers it.”
Claudia interrupts. “Are you sure you want me to stay, Beth? We can easily do this another day. If your husband’s on his way.”
Feeling suddenly timid. “Really, would you mind staying? It’s an hour’s drive from the City.”
“Course I don’t mind. Why don’t you have a coffee, or something stronger? We could take a walk around your garden. You’ll feel better with some fresh air.”
“I’d like that.”
Ross marches to the drinks cupboard and splashes brandy into a bell, pushing it into my hand. “Can I get something for you, Miss Schmidt?”
“Another coffee would be good.”
“Coming up. You take Beth for that walk. I’ll come find you.”
*****
Outside, pale end-of-winter sunshine and cool air are balm to mind and soul, and gradually I calm down. Rooks caw and chatter from the tall trees framing the end of the garden. Close by, smaller birds twitter, chirp and sing.
But a thought occurs. “Claudia, you won’t report any of this, will you? I couldn’t handle…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. That’s not what friends do. Don’t give it another thought.” She levels a hand toward a splash of yellow against the aged brickwork of the wall. “What’s that over there? Flowering so early?”
“Um… Winter jasmine I think.”
“Perhaps you should take some cuttings and plant it all around the garden. It looks lovely and there’s not much else at this time of the year.”
Ross appears at her elbow, offering out a mug. “I was intending to do exactly that, Miss Schmidt. And there are some stands of dogwood I’m planning to split and space out for some more winter colour. Would you like to see?”
She takes the drink, steaming fragrant blue clouds. “I’d love to.” The other hand, she loops into my arm, steering me after Ross as he leads the way.
I’m being manipulated, I know it. But just now, I don’t mind. I’m happy to let my friends distract me while I wait for my Master to arrive…
To arrive and tell me that this isn’t real…
That everything’s going to be alright…
Still, Ross is right about the dogwoods. Glossy red stems spike up from the ground, a few snowdrops peeking up from around the roots. He keeps talking… “They’re pretty overgrown. I reckon I could split this one into at least four and replant along the wall over there…” He gestures toward a herbaceous border, currently bare earth at the base of shrubs and espalier fruit bushes, naked of leaves.
Abruptly, the whisper of breeze and birdsong is shattered. A rhythmic Whop-Whop shudders the air, growing louder, closer, by the moment. Rooks flap up, yammering protest as trees sway, bare branches whipping…
… a helicopter hoves into view, hovers momentarily, swings, then comes down direct onto the lawn.
What the hell…?
Barely have the skids touched the grass, than the passenger door flings wide and my Master leaps out, ducking as he runs, his hair and tie whipped by the rush from still-spinning rotors as he covers the distance between us in great ground-eating strides.
Torn between relief, rage, and startlement, I simply stand, passive, as he hauls me into his embrace. “Elizabeth. My Love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Still with one arm clinging around me, he semi-turns, waving to the pilot. The ‘copter hums, rises and flies away, once more churning the trees.
Ross and Claudia shift back enough for privacy. And much as I longed for my Master’s return, I’m lost for what to say. I settle for, “I didn’t know you own a helicopter.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t, my Love. They’re a touch flashy for my taste. But in an emergency, there’s nothing better, and I know people who owe me a favour.”
Gripping me by the shoulders, he steers me to face him square on. “How are you? I have a good idea already of what’s happened here. Francis gave me what details she overheard.”
My head droops. “The questions he asked. It was… It was so embarrassing. Shaming. How he thought he had the right...”
“Asking such things and they didn’t even send a woman to conduct their interview,” he growls.
“Yes, it was a man. He made me feel… dirty.”